All. Most. Done.

I got a big chunk of revision done yesterday, and there’s nothing like the glow of satisfaction a good day’s work gives you. And I thought it was worth mentioning that with all the revising I’m doing, I’m not changing the story or the characters. If something was distracting from the story, it gets trimmed down or removed or moved into the background.

For example, in one scene I got carried away with the setting and it overpowers the story. I deleted a few things here and there, toned it down, moved it further into the background. The setting matters, it needed to be there, but it needed to be in perspective. There’s a subplot that didn’t develop and made a dangling loose end I needed to snip off. Those are the kinds of changes I’m making.

Shouldn’t I have seen these things myself and fixed them before I sent it in? Well, honestly, it doesn’t matter how good you are, you’re going to miss something. That doesn’t mean I don’t try. But I also know that I’m going to miss something, and the longer and more complex a story is, the more things you’re going to miss. Which is why I expect to get revisions back. I know I’m not perfect and the editor will point out the things I missed, so I can fix them. Hopefully as time goes by I will miss fewer and fewer things, but a story always benefits from another pair of eyes and a new perspective.

Which brings me to the topic of how you know good advice on your story when you get it. Somebody (forget who) said that you should take the critique that makes you wish you’d thought of it yourself because it’s so obviously right. Every single editorial mark on Rockets made me smack my forehead and say, “Oh, of course, how could I have missed that?”

Same thing with Yule. Once I got the editorial feedback, I saw that I needed to add a scene in the beginning that showed more of Luke’s character and established his motivation. And subtle changes throughout the story continued to build that character arc. I didn’t change him or the story, I just added explanation and emphasis where it was needed. But until it was pointed out, I didn’t see what was missing.

Does this mean I think every editorial input should be treated like the ten commandments, handed down from on high? No. But when you can see that it’s right, you should take it for the good of the story. If you know it’s wrong, you should suggest an alternative or explain why you disagree. And if you disagree most of the time, you’re badly mismatched. When you’re well matched, you’ll find yourself in agreement, smacking your forehead and saying, “What was I thinking? I can’t believe I didn’t see that.”